Answers to reviews:
d8rkforcen1ght7: I think you mean Sith Psychopath since Jayden desired the extinction of every lifeform in his Universe with only himself as the remaining being in existence.
OechsnerC: Thanks.
It was a few days, maybe 3, since the Gil'ead breakout and Eragon had been trying to figure out what was wrong with the Elf. When they stopped for the evening, Eragon felt no better and his temper had worsened. Most of the day had been spent on long detours to avoid detection by soldiers with hunting dogs. He dismounted Snowfire and asked Saphira, How is she?
I think no worse than before. She stirred slightly a few times, but that was all. Saphira crouched low to the ground to let him lift the elf out of the saddle. For a moment her soft form pressed against Eragon. Then he hurriedly put her down.
He, George and Murtagh made a small dinner. It was difficult for them to fight off the urge to sleep. When they had eaten, Murtagh said, "We can't keep up this pace; we aren't gaining any ground on the soldiers. Another day or two of this and they'll be sure to overtake us."
"What else can we do?" snapped Eragon. "If it were just the three of us and we were willing to leave the horses behind, Saphira could fly us out of here. But with the elf, too? Impossible."
Murtagh looked at him carefully. "If you two want to go your own way, I won't stop you. I can't expect you and Saphira to stay and risk imprisonment."
"Don't insult me," Eragon muttered. "The only reason I'm free is because of you. I'm not going to abandon you to the Empire. Poor thanks that would be!"
Murtagh bowed his head. "Your words hearten me." He paused. "But they don't solve our problem."
"What can?" Eragon asked. He gestured at the elf. "I wish she could tell us where the elves are; perhaps we could seek sanctuary with them."
George looked up. "Perhaps that's what we should do." The others looked at him. "If we can't ask her physically, we'll have to do it mentally in her mind."
I'm not sure that would be wise. She would see it as an invasion of privacy and be hostile. Saphira said in an unsure tone.
"It's the only thing we can do. She might even give us a reason why she hasn't woken." George pointed out. He looked at Eragon. "You'll have to do it though. I don't know Alagaësia magic, so it's up to you."
Eragon sighed and nodded. He knelt down next to the prone elf, George, Saphira, and Murtagh watching him. Eragon closed his eyes and extended a tendril of thought, like a probing finger, toward the elf's mind. He found it without difficulty. It was not fuzzy and filled with pain as he had anticipated, but lucid and clear, like a note from a crystal bell. Suddenly an icy dagger drove into his mind. Pain exploded behind his eyes with splashes of color. He recoiled from the attack but found himself held in an iron grip, unable to retreat.
Eragon fought as hard as he could and used every defense he could think of. The dagger stabbed into his mind again. He frantically threw his own barriers before it, blunting the attack. The pain was less excruciating than the first time, but it jarred his concentration. The elf took the opportunity to ruthlessly crush his defenses.
A stifling blanket pressed down on Eragon from all directions, smothering his thoughts. The overpowering force slowly contracted, squeezing the life out of him bit by bit, though he held on, unwilling to give up.
The elf tightened her relentless grip even more, so as to extinguish him like a snuffed candle. He desperately cried in the ancient language, "Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal!" I am a Rider and friend! The deadly embrace did not loosen its hold, but its constriction halted and surprise emanated from her.
Suspicion followed a second later, but he knew she would believe him; he could not have lied in the ancient language. However, while he had said he was a friend, that did not mean he meant her no harm. For all she knew, Eragon believed himself to be her friend, making the statement true for him, though she might not consider him ancient language does have its limitations, thought Eragon, hoping that the elf would be curious enough to risk freeing him.
She was. The pressure lifted, and the barriers around her mind hesitantly lowered. The elf warily let their thoughts touch, like two wild animals meeting for the first time. A cold shiver ran down Eragon's side. Her mind was alien. It felt vast and powerful, weighted with memories of uncounted years. Dark thoughts loomed out of sight and touch, artifacts of her race that made him cringe when they brushed his consciousness. Yet through all the sensations shimmered a melody of wild, haunting beauty that embodied her identity.
What is your name? she asked, speaking in the ancient language. Her voice was weary and filled with quiet despair.
Eragon. And yours? Her consciousness lured him closer, inviting him to submerge himself in the lyric strains of her blood. He resisted the summons with difficulty, though his heart ached to accept it. For the first time he understood the fey attraction of elves. They were creatures of magic, unbound by the mortal laws of the land—as different from humans as dragons were from animals.
. . . Arya. Why have you contacted me in this manner? Am I still a captive of the Empire?
No, you are free! said Eragon. Though he knew only scattered words in the ancient language, he managed to convey: I was imprisoned in Gil'ead, like you, but I escaped and rescued you. In the five days since then, we've crossed the edge of the Hadarac Desert and are now camped by the Beor Mountains. You've not stirred nor said a word in all that time.
Ah . . . so it was Gil'ead. She paused. I know that my wounds were healed. At the time I did not understand why—preparation for some new torture, I was certain. Now I realize it was you. Softly she added, Even so, I have not risen, and you are puzzled.
Yes.
During my captivity, a rare poison, the Skilna Bragh, was given to me, along with the drug to suppress my power. Every morning the antidote for the previous day's poison was administered to me, by force if I refused to take it. Without it I will die within a few hours. That is why I lie in this trance—it slows the Skilna Bragh's progress, though does not stop it... I contemplated waking for the purpose of ending my life and denying Galbatorix, but I refrained from doing so out of hope that you might be an ally. . . .Her voice dwindled off weakly.
How long can you remain like this? asked Eragon.
For weeks, but I'm afraid I haven't that much time. This dormancy cannot restrain death forever . . . I can feel it in my veins even now. Unless I receive the antidote, I will succumb to the poison in three or four days.
Where can the antidote be found?
It exists in only two places outside of the Empire: with my own people and with the Varden. However, my home is beyond the reach of dragonback.
What about the Varden? We would have taken you straight to them, but we don't know where they are.
I will tell you—if you give me your word that you will never reveal their location to Galbatorix or to anyone who serves him. In addition you must swear that you have not deceived me in some manner and that you intend no harm to the elves, dwarves, Varden, or the race of dragons.
What Arya asked for would have been simple enough—if they had not been conversing in the ancient language. Eragon knew she wanted oaths more binding than life itself. Once made, they could never be broken. That weighed heavily on him as he gravely pledged his word in agreement.
It is understood... My best friend can transform into a dragon, after all. A series of vertigo-inducing images suddenly flashed through his mind. He found himself riding along the Beor Mountain range, traveling eastward many leagues. Eragon did his best to remember the route as craggy mountains and hills flashed past. He was heading south now, still following the mountains. Then everything wheeled abruptly, and he entered a narrow, winding valley. It snaked through the mountains to the base of a frothy waterfall that pounded into a deep lake.
The images stopped. It is far, said Arya, but do not let the distance dissuade you. When you arrive at the lake Kóstha-mérna at the end of the Beartooth River, take a rock, bang on the cliff next to the waterfall, and cry, Aí varden abr du Shur'tugals gata will be admitted. You will be challenged, but do not falter no matter how perilous it seems.
What should they give you for the poison? he asked.
Her voice quavered, but then she regained her strength. Tell them—to give me Túnivor's Nectar. You must leave me now... I have expended too much energy already. Do not talk with me again unless there is no hope of reaching the Varden. If that is the case, there is information I must impart to you so the Varden will survive. Farewell, Eragon, rider of dragons... my life is in your hands.
Arya withdrew from their contact. The unearthly strains that had echoed across their link were gone. Eragon took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open. George, Murtagh, and Saphira stood over him, watching with concern. "Are you all right?" asked Murtagh. "You've been kneeling here for almost fifteen minutes."
"I have?" asked Eragon, blinking.
Yes, and grimacing like a pained gargoyle, commented Saphira dryly.
Eragon stood, wincing as his cramped knees stretched. "I talked with Arya!" Murtagh frowned quizzically, as if to inquire if he had gone mad. Eragon explained, "The elf—that's her name."
And what is it that ails her? Asked Saphira impatiently.
Eragon swiftly told them of his entire discussion. "How far away are the Varden?" asked Murtagh.
"I'm not exactly sure," confessed Eragon. "From what she showed me, I think it's even farther than from here to Gil'ead."
"And we're supposed to cover that in three or four days?" Murtagh asked angrily.
But if we do nothing, she'll die! If it's too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya, George and me; at least we would get to the Varden in time. You could catch up with us in a few days."
Murtagh grunted and crossed his arms. "Of course. Murtagh the pack animal. Murtagh the horse leader. I should have remembered that's all I'm good for nowadays. Oh, and let's not forget, every soldier in the Empire is searching for me now because you couldn't defend yourself, and I had to go and save you. Yes, I suppose I'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like a good servant."
"There might be a way." George suddenly spoke, turning to them from looking in the direction of the mountains. The others were confused until Eragon and Saphira saw it in his mind.
No, you can't be serious. Saphira said. By yourself?
Yes. George said privately to her, so only she and him could hear their words. Eragon won't leave Murtagh and you will not eleave Eragon for any reason, no matter what.
Saphira hated to admit it but he was right, she wouldn't leave her Rider's side for anything. She felt something growing in her stomach, something uncomfortable at letting George go off on his own. She looked away to distract herself...and so he couldn't see the sadness in her eyes.
George looked at the other two. "I can try and get there in probably a couple of days time."
"How?" Murtagh asked with doubt.
"I have my ways." George said cryptically but Saphira and Eragon knew which way he was talking about. "I'll take Cadoc and ride with Arya." He went to go get the horse ready. As he did so, Eragon walked up to him.
"You don't have to do this." Eragon said, he didn't want them to split and not see each other for who knows how long.
"I need to, Eragon." George whispered, casting a glance at Murtagh. "I can get to the Varden by my other form and Arya can get the help she needs. I'll meet you there. I'll be fine, don't worry."
Eragon stared at him before nodding and gave him a brotherly embrace that he returned as Saphira walked up to them with her saddle.
Here, use this so your scales don't harm her. She said. George took it and nodded before placing it onto Cadoc. Saphira helped place Arya onto the horse. Eragon, could you give us some privacy?
Eragon nodded and began turning away, walking over to Murtagh. Saphira pressed her snout against George's chest.
Don't go. She whimpered softly.
I have to. George said softly as he stroked her cheek and she leaned into his hand.
But...I don't want you to go.
George leaned in and pressed his forehead against her snout, hugging her gently. Tears ran down the dragoness' face as she closed her eyes and pressed her snout into his embrace to return the hug. She opened her eyes, the tears falling even more and she made no move to stop them. They had just started to become closer after Leona-Lake and sorting through their conflicted emotions for the other, and now they were separating. To Saphira, it felt like she was loosing a part of herself. George meant just as much to her as her Eragon did and she couldn't bear the thought of loosing either of them.
George pulled his forehead away before pausing then pressed a soft kiss onto her snout, making her choke back a sob as he laid his chin on her snout, staring into her eyes. We'll meet again, Saphira. I promise we will be together again.
I'll hold you to those words.
George released her then mounted Cadoc. He made sure he had his Lightsabers and the bag containing his Jedi Hunter outfit before riding off away from his friends...away from her. He closed his eyes, trying to prevent the tears but one did escape and trailed down his cheek. He closed his mind tightly, breaking his contact with Saphira and Eragon. He did not dare look back...because he may just turn around and go back if he did.
So George has left to go get Arya to the Varden while his companions take the other way. The next chapter is the two separate routes taken.